


Good Birthday?

by minyoungis



Series: BTS [7]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Comfort, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Intimacy, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Pride and Prejudice References, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traditions, birthday fic, hbd kook, idolverse, watching movies together ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyoungis/pseuds/minyoungis
Summary: It’s an annual thing. On Jungkook’s birthday, or more accurately in recent years because of tighter schedules and clashing commitments, sometime during Jungkook’s birth week, he’ll come over for a quiet dinner and then you’ll both go up to your room and watch a period drama of his choice before falling asleep by 11 PM at the latest.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Reader
Series: BTS [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973482
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Good Birthday?

**Author's Note:**

> guk is ☆best boi☆

You hear his phone vibrate for the twelfth time in the past five minutes as he half-sits up, stretching his hand to retrieve it from the side table next to the bed before settling his head back down in its previous position on your lap as a puff of air leaves his lips.

In a non-verbal agreement, you pause the movie playing on the tiny laptop screen ( _Pride and Prejudice (2005)_ ) and take your own phone.

It’s an annual thing. On Jungkook’s birthday, or more accurately in recent years because of tighter schedules and clashing commitments, sometime during Jungkook’s birth week, he’ll come over for a quiet dinner and then you’ll both go up to your room and watch a period drama of his choice before falling asleep by 11 PM at the latest.

It combines all his softer likes, bringing to the forefront his smoother edges rather than the exuberance and _maknae_ brattiness he sports in front of cameras on the daily, and a far cry from the confident and suggestive persona he pulls off with ease on stage. A home-cooked meal, some warm milk after dinner, a slow burn romance classic and dim fairy lights as you both get cozy under quilts and pillow forts.

This year, you’ve been lucky enough to receive the pleasure of his company on D-day itself, press conferences and celebrations with different groups of friends mercifully being scheduled on different evenings and afternoons.

Your phone reads 10:15 PM, and the scene is paused at Darcy in the rain pleading, _“I love you. Most ardently.”_ If tonight were like all the previous times the two of you had watched the film, this is when Jungkook would’ve sniffled a bit and shakily replied, “Yeah, and what about it?” on your enquiry about whether he was crying, before shucking a pillow on your face.

Always the romantic, that one.

But somehow, you can’t feel too cut up about missing that particular part of the tradition when you take in the shy but bright grin on his face as he goes through all the wishes he’s received since the last time he checked, tiny dimple appearing as he scans his held up phone.

The weight of his head on your lap is comforting, and you resume carding your fingers through his hair like you were doing prior to the interruption.

He absently hums in response as he types out messages of gratitude from his too-big-for-his-body heart as you twirl strands of his hair around your finger, watching as they bounce back and settle in shape.

“I can feel you looking at me,” he mumbles lowly, slow drawl of the arrival of drowsiness making his voice deeper and amusement more apparent.

“Yeah, and what about it?” you ask, deciding to let go of pretence and locking your phone so you can continue looking at him unabashed. The quilt covering him stops at his stomach and the oversized t-shirt he’s wearing hangs on his frame, neck exposed and sleeves falling down to his elbows, tattooed forearms exposed.

He winks at you after your brazen comment, slightly increasing the pressure of his head on your thigh in faux-admonishment as you smile softly.

It’s easy to get lost in how he looks when his eyes are on you, but watching the upturn of his lips as he reads a wish, the low chuckle when somebody sends him something funny, and the gratitude in his eyes when he takes in all the love somehow feels more personal than any level of eye contact you two share. It’s like looking in from the outside, but through squeaky clean windows with your face pressed right up to the glass.

You disentangle your fingers from his hair, slowly tracing them down to his exposed forehead even as he locks his phone with a pleased hum and drops it on the bed next to him, palms pulling up the blanket until its tucked under his chin and you can only see his head poking out.

“We can continue the movie,” he mumbles, but makes no move to turn from his position on your lap, large eyes looking up at your near-reverent expression as you shake your head in a slow no.

“In a minute,” you reply, equally soft, now running the pad of your thumb along one of his eyebrows and smoothening the curve.

He smiles at you gently, preening under your touch and willingly letting his eyelids flutter shut as your index finger traces the bridge of his nose, before delicately booping the end, your heart near set to burst at his small giggle.

You proceed lower, catching the top of his Cupid’s bow, grazing his upper lip, finger catching momentarily on his lower before you cup his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek.

He opens his eyes and watches you, partly shy and partly pleased, before he puckers his lips, obvious in his intentions and needy in his demands.

You oblige, as always, ducking your head to press a soft kiss on his forehead, the tip of his nose, both his cheeks before landing on his grinning lips, his face taking on a slightly red hue from all the attention you’ve just bestowed on him.

His arm comes out from under the blanket, winding around your neck and holding you in place even after you’ve pulled away a couple of inches. Your hair curtains one side of the little bubble, dimmed light entering and illuminating his face in a soft, yellow glow, his eyes settled in contentment at the end of nearly twenty four hours full of well wishes and good cheer, and exhaustion from the same.

“Good birthday?” you ask, like how you do every year, ensuring that he’s gotten all the love he deserves, that he’s been showered with affection and happy attention that you wish you were bold enough to vocalise everyday.

“The best,” he whispers, turning his head a little to the side and pressing a quick peck to your palm that’s still gently curled around his jaw.

You mumble in satisfaction, straightening up and pressing play on your laptop. Jungkook doesn’t relinquish his hold on your hand in both of his under his blanket, turning so he’s facing the screen, absently rubbing his cheek against the fabric of your pyjama pants to get comfortable.

“Should I rewind a bit so you can get the full crying experience?” you ask, fondness seeping into your voice unconsciously.

He tightens his grip on your fingers as he tucks your hand under his chin, knees folding in to his chest as he replies happily, “Yes, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!  
> find me on tumblr (where everything is cross posted) at @min-youngis :D


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